Last night, two men tried to force my shutters. I recognized them: they are two of Rodin's Italian models. He told them to kill me. I am in his way; he wants to get rid of me.

I am in no mood to be deceived any longer by the crafty devil and false character whose greatest pleasure is to take advantage of everyone.

I have all sorts of problems and feel discouraged.

I have been back in Paris for two weeks. Nothing new. Life is still bitter.

I took all my wax studies and threw them in the fire that's the way it is when something unpleasant happens to me. I take my hammer and I squash a figure.

There is always something missing that torments me.

Don't fear anything for your letters, they are burnt one by one and I hope you do the same with mine.